Pein narrowed his eyes as he turned to face Sasori.

"Piano," repeated Pein.

"Violin," said Sasori.

"A violin is too confining," said Pein, crossing his arms. The hand-knit, miniature wool cap flopped over his elbow, its sunny colour contrasting sharply with his navy button-up shirt. His sleeves were rolled up revealing slender, if muscled, and pierced forearms. "With a piano, the possibilities are endless. Any musical style could be achieved, any emotion evoked in the listener. Is there any instrument more versatile and malleable than the piano?"

"A violin is a virtuoso's instrument; it requires precision, relentless study and dedication," countered Sasori, his grip tightening on the feather-soft, crimson cloud-patterned onesies he arranged in the drawers of the tall, oak chest of drawers. "A violin is a traditional instrument whose sound becomes progressively more enchanting the longer it is played, the older it gets. It never loses its vibrancy. It beguiles agelessly, like art."

He shut the drawer a bit harder than intended at Pein's soft huff of derision.

But Pein wasn't finished. He turned away from Sasori as he re-sorted the newborn diapers for the third time, examining each one for imperfections before aligning them perfectly within arm's reach on the shelf beside the matching oak change table.

"You and your 'art'. You can't see beyond it, can you? How do you expect to raise a child when you won't let yourself feel human emotion. You want to preserve everything in a perfect state instead of seeking the constant improvement that helps individuals grow—"

Sasori's voice was terse as he deposited an armload of tiny, spring-coloured socks and booties into another drawer. "And you can't see past self-improvement to understand that greatness is achievable and can be a constant state of beauty and perfection—"

"Twins," came a strained voice from the doorway.

The bickering men froze and turned to look at a pale Sakura as she smiled wanly at them.

"Twins. We're… we're expecting twins."

She gave a small chuckle. "I guess you're potent," she joked with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. "Tsunade confirmed for me today with an ultrasound. Two separate heartbeats."

Sasori was rooted to the spot, speechless; even Pein stumbled in his words.

"She's—you're—sure?"

Sakura bit her lip and nodded.

Pein looked back at the crib.

"We need another."

Sakura chuckled. "There's plenty of time."

"I'll go make the arrangements," insisted Pein, moving to Sakura's side to take her arm. He folded his hand over hers, his features softening. "Do you want another the exact same, or in a slightly different style?"

"In the same style or it will be inconsistent," said Sasori, rousing himself from his stupor.

"But they're individuals, not clones," argued Pein.

"Technically—"

Sakura raised her eyes heavenward. "I'm going to go make some lunch," she said, retreating to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Pein and Sasori continued their standoff in the nursery.

"—and that means that they can play a team sport," said Pein.

"Individual sports are better suited to building resiliency and self-reliance," said Sasori.

From the kitchen, Sakura sighed.

END